


Just A Few Weeks

by nxghtwxng



Series: Navigating Life [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Jon is in college, M/M, Morning Sex, Pillow Talk, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxghtwxng/pseuds/nxghtwxng
Summary: “I like this,” Jon says as Damian leans back against him, bringing a hand to rest on his chest. Under the sheets, their legs tangle together.“Like what?” Damian asks absent-mindedly.“This,” Jon says, wrapping his arm tighter around Damian. “You and I. As a couple, I mean.”Or: After months of pining (and sleeping together), Damian and Jon are finally an official couple.Technically a sequel toStay the Night, but can be read alone. It's really just smut.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Series: Navigating Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845865
Comments: 19
Kudos: 246





	Just A Few Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you waiting for the final chapter of [Trust Me to Love You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457448/chapters/64466299), I promise you it's in the works, but here's some DamiJon smut to hold you over until it's posted.

Jon wakes to an alarm, which feels bitterly wrong considering it’s the weekend. He blinks sleepily at the ceiling, squinting slightly as sunlight creeps into the room, sliding through the cracks in the blinds and the haphazardly drawn curtains. 

The ceiling above him is painted a pristine white that is disturbed only by a rustic ceiling fan spinning in lazy circles. It’s a stark contrast to the low-hanging ceiling of Jon’s apartment bedroom, with its slight slant and chipped paint.

Belatedly, mind still addled with sleep, Jon recalls that he’s not in his shoebox apartment in Metropolis, but at Damian’s apartment in Gotham.

The alarm that had woken Jon continues to blare through Damian’s phone, but Damian makes no move to turn it off, his face still buried in his pillow. Jon would think that Damian was still asleep if he didn’t know what a light sleeper he usually was. 

“Dames,” Jon says gently, nudging his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Your alarm is going off.”

Damian only groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, ignoring both Jon and the alarm. Damian may be a Robin, but he’s never been much of a morning bird.

Jon sighs and pushes himself up onto his elbows, reaching across Damian to where his phone is charging on the bedside table. The phone is just out of Jon’s reach, and the alarm continues to blare, taunting him.

Reluctant to climb out of bed, but determined to silence the incessant alarm, Jon sits up and swings a leg over Damian’s waist, hovering over his lower back. Steadying himself with a hand on Damian’s shoulder, he reaches across the bedside table for Damian’s phone. He taps at the phone-screen, and the alarm finally quiets. 

“Dames,” Jon says again, still hovering over his back. He pushes back to settle his weight on the back of Damian’s thighs. “What’s the alarm for?”

Damian groans again. “Morning training,” he mumbles against his pillow. “I informed Father that I wouldn’t be there this weekend, but I must have forgotten to turn off the alarm.”

Jon leans down to press a lingering kiss to the side of Damian’s neck. Damian hums at the touch.

“The great and mighty Robin? Skipping his morning training?” Jon teases. He presses another kiss to Damian’s neck, then another, leaving a cascading trail. He lingers at the base of Damian’s neck, sucking a bruise into the crook between his neck and shoulder. He nips at the skin, and Damian’s breath hitches.

“I have better things to do than train right now,” Damian breathes.

“Oh?” Jon asks, feigning innocence even as he presses his slowly growing erection against Damian’s ass. “Like what?”

Damian makes a noise that falls somewhere between a huff and a growl. “You know exactly _what,_ Hayseed.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Jon responds. His voice is filled with far too much naivety considering the way he slips his hands under the sheets, fingers finding Damian’s hips and dipping under the waistband of his boxers. 

_“Jonathon,”_ Damian snaps, and Jon grins. Using the slightest fraction of super-strength and super-speed, Jon flips Damian onto his back and pins his hands above his head. 

“Yes?” he asks as he shoves the sheets to the foot of the bed, where they’ll be out of the way. Jon is still straddling Damian’s waist, and now that Damian is on his back, Jon can feel his dick pressing against him. Damian must have woken up hard because there is no way that Jon grinding against him for a minute or two got him that hard that fast.

Damian’s breaths are slow and steady, chest rising and falling under Jon. “Jonathan,” he repeats. Lighter, this time. Gentler. Like Jon’s name is something precious that may shatter under the pressure of a harsh tone. Damian’s lips are parted slightly, like he’s debating whether or not he has something more to say. Jon ends his debate, quieting unsaid words with a kiss.

One kiss easily devolves into too many to count. Each kiss bleeds into the next, no finite start or stop. Just warm lips and tongue that melt into one another, and hot breaths that tangle together between kisses.

Jon releases Damian’s arms from where he had pinned them above his head. Instead, he runs his hands down Damian’s already bare sides, movement slow and languid as he attempts to memorize the skin beneath him. Every muscle, every scar. Every dip, curve, and straight edge.

Damian’s newly freed hands snake around Jon’s neck, pulling him down so there’s scarcely an inch of space between them. Jon presses his pelvis down against Damian’s, and Damian inhales sharply. “Jon,” he whines against his lips, and that single syllable tells Jon everything he needs to know. His hands once again dip into Damian’s boxers, but this time he tugs them down, tossing them carelessly off the side of his bed. His own boxers follow, and then he’s lowering his head to take Damian’s cock into his mouth.

Damian moans wantonly and drops his head back onto his pillow, neck stretched to show off the hickey that Jon had left when they’d first woken up. His hands find Jon’s head, twisting his hair as Jon bobs his head up and down.

Jon uses one hand to work what he can’t reach with his lips, the other to hold down Damian’s hip. He pulls back enough to lick a stripe up the side of Damian’s dick, tongue swirling around the head before he once again takes it into his mouth.

 _“Shit,”_ Damian breathes. _“Shit, Jon.”_

Damian’s breaths soon start to turn ragged, but Jon isn’t ready for Damian to come just yet. He pulls off of Damian’s dick, pressing a kiss to his inner-thigh before looking up at Damian, a question in his eyes. 

Damian understands right away. Wordlessly, he reaches for his bedside table and opens the top drawer. A moment later, a little plastic bottle is pressed into Jon’s hands. 

As Jon presses a lube-slicked finger into Damian, Damian’s eyes flutter shut, long lashes dusting his cheeks. Jon works him open slowly and thoroughly. He takes his time before he adds a second finger, then a third. With the third, he’s rewarded with a breathy moan.

“Jon,” Damian whines. “Come on.”

“Hmm?” Jon hums, nipping at Damian’s inner thigh as he continues to work his fingers in and out.

“Jonathan.” Jon looks up to meet dark green eyes which, usually sharp and biting, are clouded with lust. “Fuck me already,” Damian orders.

And who is Jon to deny such a request? He scrambles to reach over Damian, snatching a condom from the drawer Damian had left open. 

“Hurry up already,” Damian snaps as Jon tears open the wrapper, then rolls the condom onto himself.

“Bossy,” Jon teases. He climbs back over Damian, dropping down to peck him on the lips.

“I wouldn’t have to be if you would just– _Oh fuck.”_ Damian trails off into a moan as Jon pushes into him. His hands hasten to grab at Jon’s shoulders, his leg sneaking up to wrap around Jon’s waist.

Jon lets Damian pull him closer, pushing into him slowly until he bottoms out. “Shoot,” he murmurs, head dipping back and eyes screwing shut. He starts to thrust in and out, slowly but surely finding his rhythm. 

_“Damian,”_ he moans, then leans down to capture Damian’s lips in a kiss. It’s messy, their lips already spit-slicked and kiss-swollen, their tongues moving clumsily against one another, both too preoccupied with the other’s body to worry about lips. Jon breaks the kiss and ducks his head against Damian’s shoulder. Damian takes it as an invitation to mouth at Jon’s neck, sucking and biting even though they both know that Jon’s skin will never bruise. 

Then Jon shifts, pushes in at a different angle, and Damian’s lips leave his neck as he gasps. Jon speeds up, thrusting faster and harder, and Damian lets out a slew of Arabic curses that Jon is starting to become startlingly familiar with.

Jon knows Damian is close. He can hear it in his ragged breaths and strained curses, see it in his furrowed brow. He brings his hand to Damian’s dick, jerks it once, then twice, and then Damian is spilling over his fist, back arching as he cries Jon’s name. 

Jon jerks him through his orgasm, knowing he isn’t far from his own. He manages three more thrusts, but his hips stutter as Damian clenches around him, pushing him over the edge. 

As he comes down from his orgasm, Jon stills, breathing heavily. He ducks his head for one last kiss before pulling out and rolling off of Damian. He carefully pulls off the condom, then slips out of bed to dispose of it in the bathroom wastebasket, returning with a damp washcloth that he and Damian use to clean themselves off. 

Jon flops back onto the bed, forgoing boxers for the time being. “Good morning,” he grins.

Jon can tell that Damian is fighting a smile as he tosses the soiled washcloth onto his bedside table. “Good morning,” he returns.

Jon presses a kiss to his temple, then pulls the blankets up from the foot of the bed and burrows underneath. “Cuddle with me?” he asks.

Damian sighs, like Jon’s just asked him for a favor he doesn’t particularly want to fulfill, but sidles up to Jon and lays his head on his chest. He looks up at Jon, and the corners of his mouth tug upwards, which is more or less the Damian equivalent of a grin. Jon dips his head, and Damian lifts his, meeting him halfway for yet another kiss.

“I like this,” Jon says as Damian leans back against him, bringing a hand to rest on his chest. Under the sheets, their legs tangle together.

“Like what?” Damian asks absent-mindedly.

 _“This,”_ Jon says, wrapping his arm tighter around Damian. “You and I. As a couple, I mean.” Because, really, they’ve only been together for a few weeks. Sleeping together for a few months, but an honest to Rao couple for just over three weeks. And Jon couldn’t be happier.

“And you,” Jon adds. “I _really_ like you.”

Damian huffs something that might’ve been a laugh against Jon’s shoulders. “Yeah, well, I really like you too,” he mumbles, and Jon grins.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, Damian’s fingers tracing indiscernible patterns against Jon’s chest, touch soothing and comfortable. Jon looks down at Damian and plants a kiss in his sleep-and-sex-mussed hair. Damian sighs, content, and Jon smiles. 

This is something that Jon had wanted for so long, but was never sure he would have. He and Damian had spent so long dancing around one another, lingering for far too long at the crossroad between _friends_ and _more than friends._ Sleeping with one another, then pretending it never happened and worrying that it meant nothing, when in fact, it was as far from _nothing_ as one could get: It had been _everything._ Damian had been everything. 

And not knowing whether or not Jon had meant _anything_ to Damian had somehow been worse than Kryptonite poisoning. 

But _knowing_ that he had meant something to Damian then and means everything to him now is somehow better than the power of a thousand yellow suns.

Because, Rao, Damian still means everything to Jon. Damian has meant everything to Jon for a long, long time. Not that Jon had realized at that time– though he suspects Lois did– but Damian had been his first crush, back when he was ten years old. Then at twenty, he’d been his first time, and they’d been best friends for all the years in between.

Jon tilts his head, cheek landing in Damian’s hair. He had never told Damian that he had been his first. He probably should have told Damian that first night they’d slept together, but now, he decides, is as good a time as any.

“Hey, D?” Jon murmurs. “Can I tell you something?” 

Damian’s hand slows. He presses it flat against Jon’s chest, then tilts his head up to look at Jon, waiting expectantly. 

“You, uh, remember the first time we slept together?” 

“No, it must have escaped my memory,” Damian says, rolling his eyes.

Jon nudges him with just a _teeny_ bit of super-strength. Damian grunts, delivering a weak slap to Jon’s chest. “Don’t do that,” he chides. Jon only smiles, and Damian rolls his eyes again, sighing. “Yes, I remember our first time together,” he relents. “Why?”

“I just–” Jon starts. “You know, _our_ first time was kinda _my_ first time in general.” Damian blinks, and Jon isn’t quite sure if he understands. “I mean I was a virgin when we–”

“Yes, I know what _first time_ means,” Damian snarks, but then in a softer voice, he adds, “I’m just surprised, is all.”

Jon’s brows shoot up. “Surprised?”

Damian shrugs. “You had a steady girlfriend in high school. And, well, you’re not _unattractive,”_ he says, and Jon snorts. “I suppose I just always assumed you’d done it, if not with your ex-girlfriend, then with someone at your university.”

“Oh. No, I– Anna and I did _some_ stuff, but never, you know, _all the way,”_ Jon says. “And I never dated anyone at Met U, and I’m not really into the hook up scene,” he continues, blatantly ignoring the fact that his and Damian’s relationship had started solely with hook ups. 

Damian hums against his chest, and Jon shifts slightly, realizing a glaringly unanswered question. “What about you?” he asks timidly. Damian looks up at him, but says nothing. “I mean, you had that boyfriend your first year at Gotham U, right?" Jon prompts. "Did you ever…”

“No,” Damian answers, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. Jon has always found it amusing– cute, even– how flustered Damian gets when talking about sex, especially considering how shameless he usually is– both in life, and in bed. “We never really did anything below the belt.”

“Really?” The idea makes Jon a little giddy, though he half-wonders if it’s weird to be _this_ happy that Damian has never been with anyone else– has _only_ ever been with Jon.

Damian shrugs again. “We were only together for a few months.”

At that, Jon snorts. “D, we’ve only been together for a few _weeks,_ and we just had sex. And we had sex last night. Three times. Four times if you count the–”

 _“Jonathan,”_ Damian interrupts, cheeks once again red, and Jon laughs.

As Jon’s laughter tapers off, they fall back into their comfortable silence. Damian resumes tracing gentle shapes on Jon’s chest, and Jon closes his eyes, humming contentedly.

Even as Jon drifts back to sleep, (That alarm really did wake them too soon.) Damian continues to ghost his fingers along Jon’s skin in a familiar pattern: _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

He writes it in Arabic, of course, lest Jon realize what he’s spelling. They really have only been together a few weeks. He has plenty of time to say the words.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never written smut before, by my friend [IAmWhelmed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed) encouraged me to try, so here we are! 
> 
> I will love you forever if you drop a kudos or comment!
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr: [nightwingbb](https://nightwingbb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
